


The Gray Wedding

by Fuegita



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuegita/pseuds/Fuegita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events at Castle Blackhorn alluded to in Close the Doore and Come Here's RPG 7 Podcast (Episode 121) actually “happened” in that they occurred during a real-life session of Green Ronin’s Song of Ice and Fire Roleplaying with the players that comprise House Moorshead.  Here is an in-universe summary of these events if you’d like to read further.  Several characters that have already been introduced are referenced, including Lady Iris, Lord Nic, Squire Jonah, and Cicero the Fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gray Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Scroll to end for Footnotes.

**The Citadel, Oldtown**  
_Excerpt from a historical record of Riverlands events_

Though many scholars may trivialize the affairs of the lesser noble houses, serious students of Riverlands lore agree that the joining of House Moorshead and House Dannett circa AC 298 is an event worthy of at least momentary consideration, heralding as it did the change of lineage from the descendents of Lord Nolan Moorshead and Lady Alanna to the descendants of Lord Nolan and Lady Barbara of House Bracken. The importance of documenting these mundane activities must never be underestimated, even by so-called "learned" maesters who might assign such a task as a slight or even castigation, for it is from such detritus and footnotes that legends arise to take their place among the great.

Stars and barbs aside, it has fallen on this humble Acolyte to make record of the events in question. Fortunately, he has at his disposal the thorough reports of Maester Sagan of House Moorshead as well as the accounts of several witnesses to guide him on his high and lofty journey. Here follows an account of the Grey Wedding, also called _The Blacksheep's Return_ by a bard whose own name has been mercifully lost to history.

It is known that the day of the ceremony dawned fair, with only a few high clouds in the east. The host that gathered in the courtyard to greet the wedding guests was conspicuously lessened by recent events (of which a worthy reader, no doubt, has already kept himself abreast by virtue of this author's previous works); of the family there remained only Lord Rhys Moorshead, the bridegroom, and his granddam Lady Sharra (called Old Shar or the Queen of Horns), a one-armed crone listing heavily over her cane. The fair lord's mother, Lady Alanna, had become a Septa of the Seven after her husband's death and was away on some errand of the church; his uncle, Lord Merik Moorshead, was a willing hostage at the Dannett castle of Helmcrest to ensure the wedding's success (another consequence of proceedings already on record). His younger siblings Kellin and Brianna had both perished in recent days (more of same). Even the number of house guards had dwindled due to the series of mysterious deaths that had plagued them in past weeks (refer to author's suspicions, footnote eleven of treatise three). Nevertheless, the resilient Moorsheads do not shy from their duties, and the young lord and ancient lady greeted their guests with grace, charm, and unruffled aplomb.

A partial guest list is as follows: First came Ser Symond Bolton _The Scarlet Blade_ , a warrior who had fought in the Seige of Pyke with Rhys' father Lord Nolan, and his brother Romis. Ser Raymun Darry Lord Merik's foster brother was there, as well as his son and his sister, Lady Isobel Hersy of the Vale, alongside her strange, foreign advisor Ormand. Lord Jonos Bracken, Lord Silvas Heatherdale (who immediately tried to curry favor with his hosts[1]), Lady Shella Whent, Lady Ayleth Chyttering of the Crownlands (whose gaudy, indecent parties this acolyte had the unfortunate displeasure of attending in his youth), and Ser Perwyn Osgrey were duly welcomed alongside their various retainers and family members. Some of the less notable but more colorful guests included Lady Luisa, a matron of House Moorshead's standing enemy House Lugus, and a mysterious Dornishman calling himself Brian Telson. Neither had been invited to the Wedding, but House Moorshead accepted them hither in the spirit of welcome and good faith.

Of note to the more highly bred reader may be the presence of the comely Monford Velarion, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark. His proud house has the blood of old Valyria pulsing through its veins, intertwining and intersticing among the noblest of Westerosi houses; in fact, the common ignoramus may not even be aware that the mother of Aegon the Conquerer himself was of House Velarion. His presence was an unexpected honor to the Moorsheads, and he introduced himself to the bridegroom, saying, "I wish to see what drama unfolds from the House that caused all the entertainment at last year's Royal Tourney. Already it has been worth the journey, for I have seen Catelyn Stark taking the Imp prisoner in the Inn at the Crossroads!"

When the guests had all been welcomed, the formalities began. First came the presentation of gifts to the betrothed, some of which shall be set down here: From Ser Darry, the rare and thoughtful gift of a tapestry depicting the late lords Nolan and Jon the Ram, Sire and Grandsire of the groom. From Ormand, the gift of a "fortune-telling". From Lady Luisa, the impudent gift of earrings in the shape of sheep tags. More interesting to the objective reader may be the pair of anonymous gifts that arrived separately, by paid couriers: one, a large crate containing a rotting sheep's-head inside an oversized silvery chalice (scoffed at by Luisa as a poor representation of House Lugus' goblet sigil); the other, an ancient tome of prophecy known as _The Book of the Green Men_. This Acolyte wonders modestly from whom it was sent, how it was uncovered, and why one would send such a rare treasure to a House of herdsmen with little interest in such esoteric subjects[2].

After the Giving of Gifts came an unexpected announcement from Rhys: Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun had called his bannermen in preparation for battle. It was a dutiful move on the part of the young lord, and a few guests left immediately to heed the summons. Those that stayed witnessed an archery contest, which by all accounts were quite entertaining to those who appreciate such plebian shows of skill. Among the participants were Ser Symond Bolton, Captain Arry of the Moorshead Guard, Perwyn Osgrey, Lord Jonos Bracken, Lord Rhys, and Ser Merik's girl-squire Joanna (see again this author's previous writs regarding House Moorshead's oft-baffling decisions). Cicero the Moorshead's new fool also participated, but was disqualified in the second round for cheating. By 150 paces, the only participants left were Ser Russell Doggett and the commoner Caron Bowman, a surprising upset considering all the lordly nobles who participated. After a few rounds of poor showing, Caron Bowman (no doubt feeling the pressure to live up to his name) hit the target at last and was declared the winner. His coin prize was no doubt underwhelming compared to those dealt by betting ring of "Uncle Uncus", a distasteful hunchback in the Moorshead's employ.

Now follows the account of The Blacksheep's Return. Compared to the events that preceded and those that came after, the coup was remarkably bloodless. It began with the arrival of Nicolas Rivers, a heretofore unimportant member of the Moorshead holdfast known primarily as the late Lord Nolan's bastard and secondarily as house kennelmaster. Arrayed in an unfamiliar suit of cream-and-ebony enameled steel rather than the dirty leathers of a huntsman, he stormed into the wedding feast and demanded the floor. "I have returned to realize my birthright as the firstborn son of Lord Nolan!" He cried. "This _child_ (referring to the startled lord Rhys, whom it must be said was a grown man of fifteen) does not deserve to rule Castle Blackhorn, I do. I claim now all that was given him, marriage alliance included!” He then revealed that his mother had been no mere tavern wench but rather the highborn lady Barbara Bracken. As the guests reeled, the wizened house Septon stepped forward to confirm that he had married the impetuous pair in secret. "What's more, before his death my father planned to name me his heir," Nic informed the speechless assembly, "and I tell you now that Ser Merik, Septa Alanna, and Lord Rhys all had reason to stop him. Lord Nolan's death was _no accident!_ "

At this point a magnanimous reader might forgive this dignified acolyte for discarding the detached tone he habitually employs and participating in the scene more fully, as were he an onlooker himself, savoring it as he would a stolen kiss or the finest of spiced wines. We see the fair Lord Rhys, a strapping lad with flowing golden hair (not unlike a novice of this acolyte's recent acquaintance), frozen in shock. We see the confusion and the dread, the shame and the doubt, the anger written across his comely features as clearly as the words on this parchment. We see as well (with the omniscient mind's eye that disregards such insignificant details as angles and attire) Nic's face behind the visor of his new Ram's-horn helm, dark and brooding and lovely in its own right, full of righteous determination to take what was his. An instant passes, a flash the length of gnat's wing or a panther's heartbeat, before the brave Lord Rhys refuses to relinquish his seat and Nic demands a Trial of the Seven[3].

With testimonies and witnesses on both sides, Rhys had no other way to defend his claim to lordship. The castle guards were reluctant to intervene, for Nic was well-liked in the arms-yard and Rhys' stern rulings (earning him the promising epithet "Ironrod") had left him somewhat out of favor with certain smallfolk. Nic had secured his six champions in advance, but Rhys struggled to find sufficient support and was eventually forced to offer knighthoods to his fool and the woman squire. The girl refused (manifesting, no doubt, the fatally craven nature of her sex) but the fool accepted, and Ser Cicero stepped forward to become Rhys' seventh Champion. The other six were himself, Lord Bolton, Lord Darry, Ser Doggett, Ser Osgrey, and Ser Turney. Nic's Champions were Master-at-Arms Ser Hallister, Ser Artemis Turney, Ser Edan Ward, Lord Leygood, and Lord Manhammer[4], a hulking brute that Nic chanced upon on the road . The astute reader will notice that lists have been here used as an efficient and eloquent way to disseminate information and not, as a certain Maester continually implies, an obstacle to clear transcription and a breach of classical style.

The fourteen men set to on an open field. Despite the learned man's disdain for such brutish, arbitrary methods of settling differences, this modest scholar confesses to a certain awareness, a casual interest, perhaps, in watching the combatants strive against each other with such manly strength. Manhammer thundered round the field, crushing his opponents with mighty strokes of his weapon. Ser Cicero stabbed his foe Edan Ward with a poisoned dagger and capered about unnervingly whilst he choked. Ser Osgrey fell wounded and later perished of his injuries, as did Lord Leygood. But all this is mere minutiae in comparison to the battle between the two brothers of House Moorshead. Hard and passionately they fought, paying no heed to the duels that raged about them; arrayed in his heavy mail Lord Rhys fought valiantly, ignoring the wounds received at the hands of his stern, splendid foe, but alas, he was no match for the older, more muscular Nic, and in the end, alas, he fell. And that is how Nic, whom we must now refer to as _Lord Nicolas_ , won lordship over the castle and the hand of Lady Iris Dannett.

In a flurry of extreme pragmatism (a trait for which the Moorsheads are well-known) the ceremony resumed immediately with Lord Nicolas as bridegroom. Though he had already a family from his lowly former life, the Septon annulled the union on the spot and let the wedding proceed. His lowly wife, a simple creature, cried heartily, but surely even she must understand the greater, loftier destinies that call to men alone, as well the inevitability of certain collateral costs that must be left in the wake of that fate's pursuit. Or perhaps such subtleties are beyond them after all; in the midst of the ceremony the lady Luisa Lugus abandoned all pretense of civility and threw herself at the bride, no doubt intending her harm. Fortunately, the guards overcame the woman before she could carry out whatever had been her foolish, foolhardy plan.

Once the ceremony had been completed at last, the festivities began. Ironically, Rhys' meticulous planning ensured that the feast was by and large pleasant for his usurper. Fine dishes were served, toasts were given, and the guests made merry[5]. Before long Valaera of Volantis, a woman in the Moorshead's employ claiming to be a pyromancer[6], demonstrated her fire-trickeries, but not before the intrepid Maester Sagan uncovered some tampering with her equipment. No culprit has yet been found. When the time of the Bedding arrived Lady Iris showed the uncomplicated enthusiasm all women do on their wedding night, though she was far from a maid (see, frequently see, the author's previous treatises regarding Riverland affairs), and once the bride and groom had been spirited away to their bedchamber the Gray Wedding finally came to an end.

In the interests of completeness, a few other reports need relaying by this meticulous, patient acolyte. It was revealed that the Dornishman Bryan Telson was, in fact, Ser Tepesh Blood, a famous warlord presumed dead for many years. The Moorsheads immediately offered him a place in Castle Blackhorn in return for his expertise (a fortunate bit of foresight indeed, as they were to require it quite soon). A dwarf named Deekin from across the Narrow Sea was given a place at the castle to hawk his wares. It was discovered that House Dannett has a sizable debt that the Moorsheads have now inherited. Lord Nicolas' infant son by his lowborn wife was named as heir over any children between him and Lady Iris. A Lorathi named Jodge has offered the Moorsheads three thousand dragons in exchange for locating the Valyrian steel weapon Blackfyre[7]. They have resolved to do something about the bandits of Whispering Wood, a nearby forestlet where a party of Moorsheads was recently attacked (as always, see the author's previous notes). And lastly, a mysterious treasure hunter surfaced with tales of a Targaryen treasure hoard, lost since the final days of Robert's Rebellion. It is truly any man's guess where the Moorsheads will turn their sights after (and if) they successfully defend their keep.

At any rate, this acolyte trusts that the reader has enjoyed another of his masterly accounts of the Moorsheads as well as (as always) the extra degree of illumination provided by his scrupulous footnotes. No doubt this is the real reason (and you cannot conceal _this_ truth, Maester Turquin, no matter how many times you flare your nostrils) aptitude of this author's caliber was consigned to such a deceptively unimportant task. As this longsuffering acolyte pens these final words and anticipates a well-deserved rest in his friendly, drafty alcove, he leaves this final counsel in closing: do not discount the lowly ones, the minor houses, the younger sons brought down by chance or treachery or gratuitous accusations (on wholly untenable grounds) of certain unnamable predilections, for they are only waiting for their chance to rise, rise like a sphinx or a glorious phoenix, ephemeral wings glistening in the star-lit breeze, to unseat you when you are old and grey and weak. We are the wargs and the world-changers, the greats-in-waiting; after all, how many (this acolyte asks, humbly as always) rockslides begin with the skittering of a single pebble? And such instants, wise reader, are what true history is all about.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Footnotes:**  
>  [1] Lord Silvas was seeking allies to shore up his standing after a botched marriage alliance with House Bolton, a sordid tale that has no place in this dispassionate work.  
> [2] Maester Sagan has informed this Acolyte that, in fact, the Moorsheads are aware of the so-called Magic of the First Men, as a member of their household has been claiming to experience their portentous Green Dreams. If confirmed, Joanna would be the first person to possess the Sight in living memory. Maester Sagan has assured me he is examining the subject closely and will file additional reports as events warrant; this author presumes it self-evident, however, that the word of a girl is not to be taken _too_ seriously.  
>  [3] This style of trial-by-combat has fallen out of favor with the nobility in recent times; its last known occurrence was nearly a hundred years ago during the Ashford Tourney in year 209 AC, when it was invoked to resolve a dispute between Prince Aerion Targaryen and Ser Duncan the Tall.  
> [4] This dedicated acolyte has thoroughly searched the annals of Oldtown and found no written record of any "Lord" Manhammer. Manhammer is in fact no more than a hedge knight, and some even question the legitimacy of his knighthood.  
> [5] More or less; tedious brawls and rivalries seem to be an indelible part of any gathering, at least those that this overly charitable acolyte has been forced to attend; on the whole he considers such pettiness beneath true scholarship and beneath him, though it often seems to find him anyway (see this author's other works). However, certain other maesters whom the author has heard delicately referred to as "long in the chain" disagree with him, so now this acolyte shall obediently sully his conscientious account with a mummer's record of he-said she-said: Lady Sharra offended several Dannett guards by asking why they had had no joust at the wedding, as her son Merik performed so well in the tilts last year. No word on whether the sly old dowager's slight was deliberate. A course of roasted direwolf offended the northern brothers of House Bolton, but Lord Symond was eventually mollified and even had a serving himself. Threats and memories of poison hung like damping fog over the proceedings though no poisonings were reported. A drunk Dornishman named Ser Tygor gave a toast to Lady Iris that sounded more like a love sonnet. Captain Arry was revealed by his cousin Benfrey Frey to be a Frey himself who had fled the family for unknown reasons many years ago. Ormand the advisor was caught seducing a chambermaid who accused him of hypnosis, and the Moorsheads fined him fifty gold.  
> [6] Of course the reader needs no explanation of this statement's ridiculousness.  
> [7] This overworked acolyte has no time to confirm the existence of the fabled sword of House Blackfyre, but there are many books in many libraries that follow the grim fate of that bastard Targaryen offshoot.


End file.
